Silver Sheet of
by miss selah
Summary: They did share the same soul. . . [spoilers past Chapter 462] [Indicated Kikyo  Kagome] [Week 106  Signs][Prompt: Under the Rain]


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**Silver Sheets of**

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A few minutes past midnight, when Kagome sat alone and awake and restless, the rain began to fall in heavy sheets, just outside. From her vantage point, she could feel the splashing of a few drops on her skin, and the light wind was just enough to carry the mist in to the cave to kiss her cheeks. The others woke up to the sound of the rain on the roof of the cave, but soon they all fell back asleep, too tired to try and fight the dull, rhythmatic drumming of the rain that sought to lull them back to dream land.

But there was no reprieve for Kagome. The sandman had scorned her, haunting her with dreams of the dead, dreams of flying and falling, dreams of burning up and dying. Tonight, though, she simply lacked the energy to be tired, and sleep – elusive as it was becoming – was lacking in appeal.

Rejecting the sound of the rain on the rocks, Kagome grabbed up her umbrella and opted instead for a walk to clear her head. If the monotonous trill of the rain above her couldn't lull her to sleep, as it had so easily done for the others, then maybe the _clack-shrlup-clack-shrlup _of her shoes on the soft, spongy ground could. The walk was a pleasant one, and Kagome was surprised at how comforting her isolation was becoming. Still, something seemed amiss. . .

The silence of the fores far outweighed the beating of the rain against the polyester of her umbrella, and she found herself frightfully unnerved. Where as the normal sounds of the evening forest had frightened her before – the call of the animal just out of sight, the glowing eyes watching her every move – the complete and utter lack of them frightened her as well, perhaps even more. _Where had they all gone off to? _She wondered, trying to soothe her taught nerves. _And if they had all gone, was it safe for her to be here? _

Her footsteps, as rhythmatic as the rain, quickened to an alarming rate that nearly matched her heartbeat until finally she ran, leaving her umbrella behind her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and she was vaguely aware that she had lost her shoes somewhere along the way, but had no desire to try and find them in the dark of the night. She blinked quickly to try and keep the rain out of her eyes, and didn't see the tree stump that had fallen in front of her. She tripped and skidded along the wet forest floor and stayed there on the ground, her face buried in the crook of her elbow, sobbing quietly.

She was lost, utterly alone. All around her, all she could see were silver sheets of rain falling like a curtain around her, caging her in and trapping her in a world more foreign than any other she had ever known. No one was here. No one but her and the rain.

A blue light, dancing on the edge of her vision, got brighter and closer, humming and singing in an animalistic fashion. She was frightened for a moment of the dragon-like creature until she finally made out it's shape – it was a soul skimmer, it's arm like appendages bereft and empty of spirits. It saw her, too, and was making it's way towards her with confusion in it's hollow eyes. Antennae like feelers touched her cheek and her lips, sticking to her like tiny suction cups. Confusion was universal, no matter the species, and Kagome recognized it in the depths of it's eyes.

"You're. . . you're looking for Kikyou, aren't you?"

The skimmer made a noise like a whimper, a cry so hollow that Kagome felt it catch in her heart and linger there, echoing tonelessly in it's empty chambers.

"She's dead." She informed it, the same way that she had informed so many others. "She's dead."

Of course, she never repeated it to the others and really, they never expected her to.

"She's dead." The soul skimmer's look was imploring, childlike, and Kagome felt the maternal instincts in her become acutely aware of her surroundings. Arms like weights, she lifted them, encircling the soul skimmer, pulling it closer and clinging to it.

"She's dead." It's body was unnaturally cool to the touch, just like _hers, _and so soft she thought if she clung to it too tightly, she might slip through.

"She's dead." It had the same give as the ground beneath her muddied knees, spongy and elastic.

"Kikyou's dead."

The rain slowed to a halt, but the forest leaves still sprinkled her with the occasional drop. She leaned against a nearby tree and decided that tomorrow could wait until the morning and, under the watchful eyes of the slave without a master, the sandman finally granted her relief.

She dreamt of the burning of miasma, of cold and dark, of empty hollow drowning. She dreamt of death.


End file.
